


laminated lavenders

by cornesque



Series: dreamnotfound songbook [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Cross-Posted on Wattpad, M/M, Mostly Wholesome, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:07:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 16,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29485755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornesque/pseuds/cornesque
Summary: when we were young | adeleclay and george were childhood friends, but george had to move away. and with distance, they drifted apart.years later, george inherits his grandparents' house in their old neighborhood, where he and clay used to play. what's peculiar was the box of letters there for george, all in clay's handwriting." love letters,to what used to beyou and i. "---intentional lowercase :)03/09/21 - edited
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: dreamnotfound songbook [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2208408
Comments: 45
Kudos: 78





	1. 0 - book-pressing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 02/06/21 - first draft  
> 03/09/21 - edited

0 - book-pressing

~

"hey george!" 

the nine year old boy looked up to see his tall, blond friend with a missing front tooth - clay, who was a year younger than him. george, smiled, and gave his friend a small wave. timid, in comparison to clay's loud and obnoxious personality - but it didn't matter, for the brit adored the blond for who he was; flaws, and all.

"what's up, clay?" george asked, looking up from the small, old, neon coloured portable gaming console he held within his small hands. 

"the sky." clay joked, and while it wasn't really that funny - george found himself suppressing a laugh, and to tease the taller boy, he didn't give clay the satisfaction of hearing him laugh at his stupid jokes.

"ha ha. very funny, clay." george replied, sarcasm reeking from his tone. twirling the lavender he has plucked from the ground around his fingers. "mom made cookies for me today, by the way, if you want some." george offered, clay smiled widely and took the brown bag from george's outstretched hand; sighing when he opened it to see health bars instead. "oh, lighten up, clay! you need to cut down the sugar you consume."

"i know, i know." clay replied, defeated, but he took a health bar from the bag nonetheless. "what's that?" clay asked, coming closer to inspect the flower between george's fingers.

"my mum said that it's a lavender! isn't it so pretty?" george smiled, placing it on clay's free hand where he wasn't holding a health bar. "such a shame that it will wilt soon." the brit mumbled quietly, but no matter how soft george made his voice to be - clay had a talent of picking up whatever he said.

after seeing the smile leave george's face, clay scrambled through his mind to find a way to make him smile again. clay had the tendency to be upbeat in order to keep george happy, that's what matters to him most - keeping his best friend very happy. george made him so, so happy effortlessly - and so, he didn't want the brit to be sad. george rarely smiled, so whenever he did, clay tries his best to make sure that it never leaves george's face.

"wait, my mom does something to preserve flowers," clay trailed off, and george perked up, staring at the blond intently - clay knew he was doing the right thing when he saw a sliver of a shine within the brit's chocolate coloured eyes. "my mom like, puts it in between a big book and squashes it."

"it will still wilt." george mumbled, clay sat down beside george and leaned on his shoulder, looking at george and smiling at him - reassurance, clay provided reassurance for when george needed it the most.

"still! even if it wilts, the book keeps it together so it doesn't fall apart." clay said, staring at the flower resting between his fingertips and handing it back to george, "even if the life has left it, its beauty is still there."

"that...actually makes sense." george smiled, gracefully accepting the flower from clay's grasp, "but, what did you want to tell me? do you have another pun to tell me?" he asked. clay had the tendency to make jokes about wordplay, and even if george insisted they weren't funny - he still lets out a hearty laugh whenever clay made those jokes.

"no, but seriously george! i found the most coolest game in the world! and i want to try it out with you!" clay said, enthusiastic and happy. george found everything his best friend did to be endearing, his natural cheerfulness wasn't an exception.

george didn't comment on clay's redundant use of superlatives, but instead, asked his best friend what game it was. clay can be a bit loud, obnoxious, but george didn't mind, he was used to it - after all, they were best friends since diapers, and george had to live with clay's loud voice since the beginning of time. but, along with the loudness of clay's voice, was something calming - whenever they have sleepovers and george couldn't sleep, clay would talk and talk and talk, filling the silence and effectively calming george down.

"what game?" george asked, and clay's eyes twinkled upon seeing that george was interested.

"it's called minecraft! and it's basically a game where you can build stuff, we can play together, george! and we can build a big house together." clay said, stretching his arms in exaggeration, "this big!"

"okay! let's play! do you want to play at my house or yours?" george asked, pocketing his portable gaming console and holding the lavender tightly by the stem.

"can we play at mine? i'll help you set up an account and you can use the laptop while i use the computer." clay smiled, "then, we can have buttered toast and orange juice!"

"yeah, sure! i'll just ask my mum if i can." george giddily replied. clay took george's hand and they ran to the door, the two best friends walked inside george's house and to the kitchen, where george's mum has her back turned on them, making dinner.

"hey, mum! can i stay over at clay's for a few hours?" george asked, his mum turned around and smiled warmly at the sight of the two boys, wiping her wet hands on her apron.

"of course, sweetheart. be back before dark." she said, the two boys silently cheering after hearing the lady's approval, "don't be too rowdy, boys. be good." george's mum said sternly, with the brit and the blond responding with different variations of agreement.

clay and george frantically rushed out of the house into clay's, when george walked up to the laptop, clay stopped him and pulled out a big, maths textbook.

"give me the flower," clay asked, and george handed the lavender to his best friend, watching intently as clay opened the book to the middle page, and with an unmeasurable gentleness - clay spread the flower out and closed the book. "i'll give it back to you when it's done." he smiled, "now, let's play some minecraft!"

george smiled and nodded, and the blond excitedly turned his computer on, and george turning on the spare laptop clay had - already knowing the password.

"okay, wait for me, i'll go make an account." george muttered, typing the needed information into the laptop. clay hummed in acknowledgement, making and starting up a world for he and george to play in. "okay, done!" the brit said happily.

george joined clay's world after he was taught how to move, the two boys happily made a house and achieved so much in a span of four hours - they weren't planning to finish the game, or, in that world. they just wanted to settle together and have fun. laughter echoed around the house, clay's parents aren't home due to work and george happily kept him company. 

"clay, i have to go home, when'll your parents go back?" george asked, clay looked down, fiddling with his fingers, eyes dimming at the thought of being alone once again. clay didn't do well with being left alone, he doesnt get mad, rather - he gets sad and yearns for company. clay was a child, after all.

"they'll be home late, they had to go and work overtime." clay muttered, doing everything he can to avoid eye contact, "they need more money to pay the bills."

clay's parents only earn enough, they have nothing more to spend something for themselves, and clay knows that - he tries to make it worth it for his parents by being on top of his classes, george coming in second, but they didn't care about ranks -- they had each other, and that's all that matters.

"but it's almost dinner time." george said, worried about the blond, to be frank - he wanted to spend more time with him but he was also a little sad that clay had to eat alone. "what will you eat?"

"i think i'll just cook some instant noodles." clay replied, waving a hand dismissively and smiling at george - trying to insist that he was fine being alone, "it's alright, though! you should go home, your mom might get worried."

george went silent, pondering about solutions and compromises. george looked at his best friend before smiling widely, an idea popping up into his head. "what if, you stay over at mine for dinner?"

"no george, what if your mom says no?" clay asked, worried and embarrassed, "plus, i don't want to intrude."

"nonsense! my mum would love to have you over." george smiled, "come on! i think she's waiting."

george ran, pulling clay behind him. the two boys ran through the neighbourhood freely, to george's house. the wind hit their face and their hair flew behind them as they laughed happily, there they were, two happy friends. when they entered the house, they were greeted by the smell of homecooked meals.

"george, is that you?" george's mum asked, coming out of the dining room and adjusting her shirt, she has abandoned the apron and opted to wear a shirt and loose, plain pajamas, "oh, hi clay!"

"mum, can clay stay with us for dinner, pretty please?" george asked, and his mum smiled warmly at the two boys, pretending to look as if she was thinking hard about her decision - she can't deny her boy whatever he wanted, especially if it involved clay. george was a lonely boy and seldom made friends, so she wasn't really strict when it came to the two boys hanging out together. "please, mum! his parents are gonna get home late and i don't want him to eat alone."

george's mum laughed lightly, ruffling her son's brown hair, "you don't have to ask, clay's always welcome here."

clay smiled and thanked george's mum, they sat down around the dinner table and told george's mum all about their day. george's mum smiled, listening intently at the boys.

george had clay, and clay had george. everything was good.


	2. 1 - floweret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 02/07/21 - first draft  
> 03/09/21 - edited

1 - floweret

~

clay and george, now 12 and 13 respectively, are still inseparable. clay has gotten crazy good in minecraft, with george trailing closely behind. they enjoyed life, because what will life put against them that they can't handle? what can't they handle? - they have each other to rely on. 

life was beautiful, yet it is very vile and cruel. they have yet to see and feel the earthworms wringing itself around their fates and destroying the small flowers who poked their head right out of the soil. 

however, lately clay has been questioning stuff about himself, more specifically - about his preferences. he liked girls, but he found his eyes lingering on george. clay took notice of george in a different light, nothing more than wholesome; george lived within the rustling of lilies of the valley, and the brit's hair flows behind him as the cool wind brushed against the flowers of humility, purity and sweetness. clay couldn't help the gentle smile resting upon his face whenever the wind gently kissed his face, whenever he heard george's honey sweet voice. asking his parents about it, he was met with calmness and serenity - being told that it was normal not to like girls sometimes, and that he had all the time in the world to figure himself out. it was moments like those that made clay miss his parents - they were busy with work and sometimes clay wanted them to stay at home, but, his parents needed to work in order for them to live comfortably.

clay often stayed over at george's, because the latter didn't want clay to be alone while his parents worked overtime - maybe, that wasn't just the reason; george loved being with clay, the blond made him feel safe and loved, plus, his mum adored clay's company and the smile it brings on george's face. more often than not, clay stayed with george for sleepovers. of course, george's mum sensed something bubbling within the two boys, but that didn't bother her - it was just raw love, like the one she had for her late husband. who was she to tell her son that the love he felt for his friend was wrong? love is love, and that is enough.

staring up at the stars, the two best friends talked about their favourite bands as unknown feelings blossomed in their hearts, stomach and lungs - growing flowerets within their empty chests. they talked about the emptiness they felt inside, about how lonely living in this world felt, but they had each other, and that's all that mattered. nothing else mattered, yes, there was the occasional sadness they felt - the listlessness and the depression, but george had clay to fall back on and vice versa, sometimes they were sad and that was okay, it was valid. and when people picked on george? they usually ended up with bruises from clay's fists, the blond was a football player - athletic, and he didn't hesitate to use his strength to defend his scrawny best friend.

"have you heard of what happened to mr. halo?" clay asked george, to which the latter hummed in question, urging clay to continue. "his husband helped his advisory class plan something for the teacher appreciation thing, and he got mr. halo a dog."

"a dog?" george asked, and clay nodded frantically. 

"it was this small." clay replied, using both his hands to show george how big the canine was, "she's white and small and her name is lucy, but his husband just called it rat."

"aw, that's adorable." george smiled, and clay made a noise in agreement. they continued talking, bouncing from a topic to another.

the two boys weren't aware of the feelings that will come after, teeth cutting through bandages and bones. but they didn't care about the future, opting to live in the moment, hypocritically - they talked for five hours about what they'll do after school, coincidentally including each other in their futures.

they talked, until the sun fell asleep, and the moon gazed at them in adoration and awe - an unlikely friendship and love between two souls. clay was a creative child, ink and light swirling around his insides, he was always desperate to create and george just encouraged it - to be frank, george was clay's inspiration, his muse, and his entire support system all in one, and clay was george's, too.

george stared at clay's sandy, blond hair blowing in the violent breeze, listening to the secrets his best friend passed from the birds to the trees. basking in each other's presence while the stars, the moon and the sun shone brightly above them. the streetlight stars blinking, their light getting caught on clay's freckles.

clay has memorized the tangible feeling of petals in between his dainty fingertips, his mind travelling back to when george handed him a piece of lavender - still inside his mathematics textbook three years ago. though faint, it released a herbaceous aroma; woody, mellow and earthy. it was calming, and pleasant.

to be frank, clay didn't know how it felt to be loved before george. before meeting and getting close to george, he spent years and months and days clenching his jaw and fists. but, he got a friend, which he doesn't know if he wants them to be more or not - they were young, but all clay knows is that george was and is important to him.

the blond adored writing, praying with muddy hands and poetry - perfect, both in design and execution, sometimes - when george has nightmares, clay sings him lullabies and hymns he made on the spot, the topic varies - it can be about sheep and dandelions, or about how important george is to clay and everyone around him. the blond appreciates his best friend so much, and it is very much reciprocated.

"how are you? like, in general." george asked clay, the former sitting on his bed with the latter's head on his lap. such a simple question, yet it got clay thinking.

clay no longer felt the need to convince everyone that he was happy, he no longer needed to hide how sad he feels sometimes. because his soul no longer cries out for connection, he no longer cared about his parents' unintentional emotional neglect towards him. clay can proudly show his face to the world while walking through the mossy cobblestone path overgrown with moss, wildflowers and weeds. clay remembered the time he met george's grandfather, and they went on a boat and caught fish, laughing at each other's jokes; it was clear that the old man saw the impact the boys had on each other, and he appreciated it - he adored it, he loved seeing his grandson so happy within clay's presence.

the younger boy was talented, honoring everyone around him through his craft; allowing his words to fall through ambrosia coated rubber lips, allowing the ink from his fingertips to smear colours on the blank canvas given to him. clay can paint and tell people about their eyes in the prettiest ways possible, and he doesn't have to let yellow paint and razorblades slide down his throat to gather inspiration, for george vocally shows him his support. george, his best friend, adored his craft more than anyone else. george was the first one to see the artworks clay made, and he was also the first one to read whatever clay has written, george loved seeing clay's eyes shine whenever he complimented the latter's work. clay did art for himself but the validation from george made him swoon.

"i'm good." clay smiled, looking up at his friend. "how 'bout you? what are you thinking about?"

george longed to walk upon glistening cobblestone paths with clay beside him, with smiles on their faces and their hair flowing with the wind, underneath the clear blue sky, but because of how close they are to each other - people started to judge them, and they felt like they're stuck within glass boxes, and if they get even closer to each other - they're as good as dead, disintegrating into thin air as the people around them forcefully contaminate the two with the germs, and the viruses from their self-loathing.

"not much, really." george responded, "but i'm fine! because, we have each other."

"yeah." clay mumbled, "of course, and we won't let anything keep us apart."

clay and george lived life to the fullest, but they always relied on a better future - which isn't bad, but they shouldn't have allowed the thought of a bad future linger around in their minds. what instead came for them was worse.

life, was beautiful. yet it is so, so cruel.


	3. 2 - red string of fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 02/09/21 - first draft  
> 03/09/21 - edited

2 - red string of fate

~

it was quiet, george stared outside his window - admiring the clear sky and listening to the chirping of the birds. it was a nice day today, and it was amplified when the aroma from the bakery down the street wafted through the air towards george's nose - the smell of sunflowers and pastries filling his senses, a small smile settled itself on george's face. the morning was calm, almost too calm.

"gEORGE!" the said boy heard his blond friend, and he looked down his window to see the boy waving his arms around, with a bright smile etched onto his face. ah, yes, the day was indeed too calm - because clay hasn't ruined it with his loud voice. don't misinterpret, clay can't ruin george's day even if he tried, but he did ruin the silence and the serenity. 

"clay! stop being so loud!" george scolded, but let's be honest - he wasn't mad at clay, only reprimanding him lightly, "wait for me, i'll meet you there downstairs."

george walked down the stairs and opened the front door, "hi george." clay greeted sheepishly, and george took a step back when his friend moved closer.

"hello, clay." george smiled, even if clay was loud, george did adore his best friend. "what's up? why are you yelling so early in the morning?" the brit asked.

"well, i was just bored and wanted to hang out." clay responded, leaning against the brit's door frame awkwardly. george raised an eyebrow, urging clay to continue.

"sure! do you have a place in mind?" george asked, and clay nodded with a smile. the latter for sure exuded golden retriever energy and george would never change that about him. 

"yeah! i found this place, it's a surprise by the way! so don't bother asking." clay said, teasing george lightly - he hated secrets and clay always used it to his advantage, often hiding surprises from him, george appreciated the gesture but his anxiety creeped up on the back of his neck whenever he wasn't aware of what was happening.

"okay then, just, let me change my clothes first. you can sit down here in the living room while i change." george stepped aside and allowed the taller boy to enter he and his mum's place. clay wordlessly sat down on the old, brown couch as george walked up to his room. "oh, there's cookies on the table, by the way!" george yelled from upstairs. clay excitedly hopped over to the dining room, and lifted up the cover from the plate resting on the table; george's mum went to run errands, it seems. to clay's disappointment, what was inside the plate wasn't cookies - but rather, health bars.

"george, these aren't cookies!" clay called out, listening to george's faint laugh from upstairs. clay grumbled, but despite his disappointment - he grabbed a health bar and sat on the couch.

with clay alone downstairs, he couldn't help but let his mind wander; specifically, he thought about george's eyes. gosh, he can write a novel about his best friend's eyes and how pretty they were, as well as his smile - which, his smile was rare, because george opted to just stare at clay's polaroid camera rather than smiling, but whenever george did smile, it was refreshing and calming. george was so breathtaking and calming and clay didn't know how a perfect human like her could exist. george's voice was magic and his form reeked of elegance and beauty.

"let's go?" clay was broken out of his trance when he heard george's voice interrupt him from his thoughts, and he mustered up his best smile and nodded.

the two boys exited the house and started walking, with clay leading the way. they both fell into a comfortable conversation, buying two white monsters and maltesers along the way. it was an adorable sight, really, clay and george were walking side by side, with george carrying the other things they've bought - clay didn't want to let george do it, but the shorter boy insisted - and since george didn't have a free hand, clay was feeding george pieces of maltesers from the bucket they bought and shared.

finally, they got to where clay wanted to be, and george was in awe of what he saw. clay brought them to the prettiest forest there was, and underneath the blanket of trees was a lake. walking into the forest, george noticed how well lit it was, despite there only being natural light. 

it was just the two of them, and the forest felt magical, like something out of a fairytale. the two boys continued walking into the forest, with clay lifting up the curtains of vines and leaves for george to go through. and for a few minutes, none of them spoke - basking in each other's presence.

clay moved his hand closer to george, the latter noticed immediately, and with a smile - george interlocked their fingers together. there, the two boys basked in each other's silence.

they sat down on the grass - in front of the lake, and they laid out the food they bought. george was already drinking his white monster, and clay kept eating the maltesers. clay even threw some in the air, catching it with his mouth, and george laughed at that - that's all clay wanted.

"this place is beautiful, clay." george muttered, a small smile on his face.

"i know, that's why i wanted to show it to you." clay responded, and george perked up at the response he got. "what?" clay asked, upon seeing george's expression.

"i don't know, i didn't expect that. that was awfully sweet." george explained, and clay let out an airy laugh at that. george stared at clay with a fond look in his eyes, and the latter returned the gesture.

"george, you deserve all the good things in the world." clay looked out at the lake before them, kicking the pebbles beneath his feet, "and one of the greatest things in the world, is this. it's not extravagant but i don't know." the blond trailed off.

"no, i love it." george reassured, "even if it's not extravagant in your eyes - it is in mine. plus, this can be our thing."

"yeah." clay smiled, staring at george's features, and the brit took that as wanting more maltesers - and so he shovelled a handful of maltesers at clay's face. the blond choked and laughed, with george laughing along with him. "what was wrong with you?" 

"hey, you had that weird look on your face." george rebutted, he didn't think it was weird, in fact - george found it endearing, clay looks at him as if he hung the stars in the sky.

they started talking about anything and everything all at once, with george leaning on clay's shoulder as they watched the lake flow. clay leaned his head on george's head and continued feeding him maltesers. the two boys stayed there until the moon arrived and the sun had to take her leave. 

basking in each other's presence, with the invisible red string of fate interweaved between their limbs.


	4. 3 - circumstances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 02/10/21 - first draft  
> 03/09/21 - edited

3 - circumstances

~

"thank you, clay. i had fun." george smiled softly, and clay smiled back. looking down at the shorter boy before him. tucking a strand of hair behind george's ear, clay laughed lightly when george flushed red as a beet from the gesture.

"no problem, george." clay responded, pressing his forehead against george's; making him giggle lightly, "let's go home, yeah?" 

"yeah, sure." george muttered. the two boys cleaned up their mess and stood up, walking back to their neighbourhood.

when george got home, his mum wasn't mad, but she looked rather sad. and the brit didn't know why. he greeted the older woman and gave her a peck on the cheek, noticing the way his mum tried to smile through her sadness.

"how was your day, sweetheart?" george's mum asked, the older woman went to get her tea from the kitchen - one for george and one for herself. once she returned in the living room, her son gave her a bright smile.

"it was so great, mum! clay and i went to this lake, and it was so beautiful!" george beamed, then breathed and calmed down - looking down at his hands with a fond look, "then, we just talked. but it was so comfy and i just...i had a fun day, mum. how about you? where did you go a while ago?"

"that's great, george. and, i went and bought some stuff from the store, no biggie." his mum responded, smiling sadly at the boy, taking a deep breath before actually getting to the point. "but, i have something to tell you."

"oh, what is it, mum?" george asked, staring at his mum with an unspeakable innocence deep within his eyes. george's mum felt a little bad, her son grew up in this neighbourhood, he experienced his firsts in here, but that doesn't matter. she wanted to be with her father.

"i know that you like it here, and you grew up here." she sighed, before continuing. "but we have to move back to england."

"what? why?" george questioned, his eyes filled with worry and shock. he didn't have that much friends here, and there wasn't much to like about the neighbourhood he grew up in, but there was clay, and there was the lake. even if he didn't have much - he valued what he had. he valued clay. clay was his everything and it doesn't matter if clay doesn't feel the same - what matters is he loves the blond.

"sweetie, your grandpa, he's very very sick. and i want to be with him." george's mum explained, "he doesn't have much time left, george." she mumbled, tears trailing down her face, and george felt guilty - he missed his grandfather but he didn't want to leave clay.

clay doesn't do well whenever he get left alone.

george understood, his grandfather was a nice man, the young boy remembered baking cookies with the man whenever he visited, but he was very down about what was happening. everything, it was all to fast for him to comprehend. how is he going to tell clay? will he and clay still talk? what about the bubbling attraction they both didn't know about? questions plagued the brit's mind. he wanted answers but at the same time, the thought of what the answers might be terrified him.

"we'll move in a week." she muttered, and george sharply looked up at her, disbelief written across his face. george's mum felt smaller, she slouched and was a little startled from her son's actions.

"a week? why didn't you tell me sooner?" george raised his voice, his mum flinching lightly. he was upset, rightfully so. his mum had just dropped a bomb on him.

"i just, i wasn't ready, george." she responded, pleading with her eyes, and george's features softened. even if he was mad, he did love his mum very much - she raised him with all the love in her heart, though he didn't meet his father, his mum didn't fall short upon loving him. "i just found out a while ago, when your gramps sent me a letter."

"can i...spend as much time as i can with clay?" george asked, looking down at his mum, "please, i'll help you with what you need help with, but please - allow me to spend time with him."

george's mum looked at her son, seeing the anguish in his eyes. she had a feeling that what george felt for his best friend was more than platonic, she didn't mind, however - she didn't know that his love for clay went deeper than normal, and so, she nodded. allowing the two boys to spend time together is the least she can do.

"thanks, mum." george mumbled, "and i'm sorry for raising my voice earlier. i just wished you told me sooner rather than slapping it across my face."

she was silenced, staring at her son's figure, watching it get farther and farther away from her as he walked up to his bedroom.

when george entered his bedroom, he crumbled, sobbing into his hands as the thought of leaving clay behind struck him. clay was alone, granted - he was popular, but his parents weren't there. clay was emotionally neglected, and they were dependent on each other. they should not be separated.

his chest heaved, and his breathing was erratic. tears continuously flowed down his face, and his right hand flew quickly up to his lips to silence his broken sobs. he felt lonely, and soon, he will feel even more lonely without clay.

george preferred to be alone back then, but clay was persistent and wanted to be his friend so bad. and so, the brit gave in, and befriended the loud, yet kind blond.

whenever george didn't feel like speaking, clay talked enough for the both of them, and george always stared up at clay - always so interested with his stories, whether it'd be about him defeating a crocodile, or him hopping on treetops, george listened and smiled at the blond's gestures.

george didn't want to lose clay, he just couldn't, and gosh it hurts. it hurts him so bad. he didn't know how to explain it, there isn't a unit of measurement to show people in numbers how devastated he was to be separated from his best friend.

clay was charming, he'll get new friends and forget about george in no time. and the thought hurt him, it haunted him. of course, he wanted clay to move on and get new friends, but forget him? no.

they were supposed to be together, they were supposed to experience life together. and now, they only had a week to spend time with each other.

was george going to tell clay about them moving? was he going to tell his best friend that he'll leave and he had to forget about him?

george looked up at the ceiling, and made up his mind.

he wasn't going to tell clay.


	5. 4 - first

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 02/13/21 - first draft  
> 03/09/21 - edited

4 - first 

~

the week was spent with george ignoring the underlying guilt of not telling clay about his departure and clay basking within the golden pool of ignorance. the brit wanted so bad to tell his best friend about him and his mother fleeing the country, but he doesn't want clay to be sad, or more specifically - he doesn't want to see clay sad. george doesn't want clay to be sad in their last week together. there's a possibility that they'll meet again together in the future, but the chances are slim. no matter what, george was going to return to clay, in one way or another.

it was george's final day in their home, and he got up early today to be with the blond. he didn't know what they were doing today, but clay always had the tendency to surprise him, and so george didn't question what and where they were going to. he was anxious, yes, but he knows he'll miss the way clay planned and surprised him. gosh, he'll miss clay so much it's not even funny.

george planted his feet on the ground, the floorboards were cold and the sunlight dripped down onto the floor, staining his legs. walking to his bathroom, the brit caught sight of his reflection, he looked tired, and george hoped to god clay doesn't notice the heavy weight george felt on his chest and shoulders. george prayed and hoped clay doesn't notice how tense his jaw was 

brushing his teeth and washing his face, he looked a little better. george then hopped in the shower, feeling the prickling of the water drops on his back, covering him in warmth, the water getting rid of the tenseness george felt within his limbs. washing himself, gave him time to think about he and clay, about their friendship. george was about to ruin it, but clay was better off without him, the blond was a natural born artist and george didn't want to hold him back.

he got dressed in a blue crewneck, jeans and a pair of yellow converse. walking down the stairs, george saw his mum finish preparing breakfast.

"oh, george. are you going to stay for breakfast?" his mum asked, and george gave her a tight lipped smile - shaking his head. he wasn't mad at his mum, but he wasn't happy with her either.

"no, sorry. clay and i are going to hang out today." he responded, upon the mention of the blond's name, george's mum stared at him expectantly. "and no, i haven't told him that we're leaving. i probably won't tell him."

"but george," his mum tried to reason, and stops. sighing instead, "enjoy your day, stay safe george."

"thanks mum." george smiled sadly, "i'll get going now." 

the woman smiled and nodded, watching as george walked out of the house and to his best friend's house. george stopped in front of clay's door, knocking ever so silently. the blond opened the door, clad in an emerald green vest with a white undershirt and a pair of corduroy pants.

clay smiled upon the sight of george, giving the shorter boy a bear hug. "george!" clay greeted, he always seemed to be so excited whenever george was around, and the brit found it so endearing.

"hello, dream boy." george replied, smiling genuinely at his tall friend. "what are we up to today?"

"do you want to go to the lake?" clay asked, "i know it's nowhere new, but i don't know, i just feel like going there today."

"yeah! let's go!" george responded, "you don't need to worry about taking me somewhere new, i quite like going to the lake with you." he reassured, and the blond smiled softly at george, pure adoration within his eyes.

"okay then, the lake it is." clay confirmed, "do you want to buy stuff along the way or do you want to bake something with me?"

"clay, you have like seven left feet and three left hands - you can't bake shit. but, it'll be fun, so let's bake." george lightly laughed, clay laughing along with him. they entered the kitchen and george took the apron hanging on the chair, unknowingly leaving clay with the other apron.

george tied the ribbon around his waist, the white fabric hugging his figure. he then turned around to see clay wearing a pink, checkered apron with ruffles along the side.

"it fits you." george teased, and the blond faux modelled the apron. "so, i think we should bake choccy chip cookies, since i know the recipe by heart and i actually want to make something edible."

"okay then, just tell me what to do and i'll comply, head chef george." clay saluted, and george giggled, nudging clay's right hand away from his forehead, gently whispering a dork underneath his breath. "please, don't make health bars. i'll lose my mind." clay pleaded, making george laugh at the blond haired boy, this was the last time they were going to see each other in a while, so maybe - feeding into clay's love for sugar won't hurt.

the two baked silently, with george helping clay do some things properly. when they placed the cookies in the oven, clay took notice of flour staining george's cheek, he turned george to face him, wiping the flour from his cheek. clay's hand lingered, and george unashamedly leaned into the touch, making clay smile.

"thanks." george murmured, and clay smiled in return. after waiting for the cookies to bake and cool, they packed them up and went on their way.

when george got cold, clay held his hand and placed both his right hand and george's left hand in his pocket - effectively warming george up. after a while, they got there. sitting down on the grass, the two talked while snacking on their cookies.

clay stood up, and offered george his hand. "do you want to dance with me?" he asked, his voice was fragile and airy - george almost never heard it, but he did. clay's stance timid. and their surroundings looked like something right out of a fairytale, it looked as if the trees were lit by wisps, but george knew for a fact that they weren't.

"dance with you?" george pondered, looking up at clay. he stood up and moved his face closer to the blond's, george's eyes following clay's fingers as he gracefully tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. a habit clay had when he was nervous.

"yeah, who knows if we'll still be together tomorrow, georgie?" clay smiled, albeit small - george saw it, clay's smile was sincere, sweet and genuine, and his eyes were beautiful and bright. clay didn't know how his words affected george, how it made george's chest ache sadly. he already missed clay even if they weren't apart yet. george moved closer to clay, and the latter hugged him, they both swayed side to side to a music no one heard but them. george loves clay so much it hurts.

george loves clay?

george loves clay. the former was sure of it.

"clay," george muttered, getting a hum in response, "i love you."

"i love you, too." clay responded, smiling.

george's head rested on clay's chest, close to his heart. george drowned in clay's gaze as he drank in the brit's disheveled and flustered state - clay looked so breathtaking, yet george thinks the same couldn't be said to himself.

"i love you." george breathed, the words disappearing and melting into the air, as if they weren't there. the moon would probably think that this was just another one of george's declaration of his love and affection for the stars, but it was different - george was declaring his love for clay.

the blond laughed, a sweet and melodious sound, it was rare for george to say i love you two times in a row but clay would be lying if he said that his heart didn't just skip a beat at the mix up. clay looked down at george and tilted the brit's face toward him. "i love you too." clay murmured.

george captured clay's face in a kiss, being each other's first.


	6. 5 - ill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 02/14/21 - first draft  
> 03/09/21 - edited

5 - ill

~

when clay woke up the next day, a smile was instantly plastered on his face. his fingers coming up to touch his lips. he just had his first kiss, and it was with george. now, he wasn't sure if he liked girls - but he liked george, and that's all he needed to know. love was love, no matter who and whatever he loved, it was still love, and undoubtedly - what he felt for george was pure and genuine.

he was giddy, what were they going to do today? last week was the best week clay ever had, every day - he and george always had something to do, it didn't even have to be something big and grandiose, basking in each other's company was enough. clay also wanted to talk to george about their feelings for one another, surely, george felt the same, right?

clay prepared for the day and went downstairs, surprised to see his parents home on a weekday, or home at all. 

"hey mom, dad!" clay beamed, "why are you home today?" he asked, and his parents smiled at each other before responding to clay.

"well, we just wanted to spend time with you, 's all." his dad replied. looking up from the newspaper he was so invested in, and taking a sip of coffee from a mug clay painted when he was very, very young.

"look, clay. i know we haven't been present much, but we're trying our best, okay?" clay's mom started, "but, we also have new job opportunities; less work hours but the salary is higher than what we used to get, which mean we can spend more time at home."

"that's great!" clay said, sitting down with his parents, helping himself with the food prepared on the table. "can i go over to george's for awhile? i promise i'll be back."

clay's parents stared at each other, worry etched onto their faces. "son, haven't you heard?" his dad asked, and clay tilted his head in confusion, a silent question for them to answer. "clay, george and his mum moved out."

the colour disappeared from clay's features, replaced with monochrome sadness. "he's not here anymore? he didn't tell me." clay muttered, he hastily stood up and excused himself from the table.

clay walked over to george's place, wrapping his fingers around the cold doorknob, twisting it to see that it was locked, the blond then remembered what his best friend told him - underneath the seventh window, the one infront of the kitchen sink, was a loose plank, and in there was a spare key; he rushed to the other side of the house's exterior and lifted the plank up, finding the golden key resting on top of loose soil.

the place was empty, it wasn't for sale - it was still george's grandparents' place, but the brit wasn't there.

the blond walked slowly up to george's room, gently opening the door to see that it was barren - except for the pastel blue sheets placed on the mattress.

clay sat on the bed, the foam dipping around him, wrinkling the sheets. when the sheets stretched, a sheet of paper slid out of the lone, thin pillow resting on top of the bed. the blond curiously glanced upon the paper, where his name was written in neat cursive.

-

clay,

i'm sorry for not telling you of our departure, i just don't want you to be sad during my last week here. i wanted us to have fun, and we did! we had so much fun and i was so sad it had to end.

i am not aware of transcendence, for all i have is you, my dignity and our memories together - but they're going to be trampled by anger, common sense and circumstances, leaving a plethora of remnants and scars imbued on our friendship and engraved in my heart.

even so, my veins are filled with determination and hope for tomorrow, a future where somehow - we'll meet again. i wish to be more than just a servant cleaning grandiose floors of what used to be ours.

clay, my dream boy, you're bright like gold, the dawn and the sun. bright like muzzle flares and streetlight skies. i do refuse to call our story finished, there's hope for us.

i'm sorry for leaving you with nothing but bones, bloody knuckles and breadcrumbs; questions without answers and problems without solutions.

i love you so much, dream.

all yours,  
george

-

clay dropped the paper on the ground, allowing the tears to fall down from his eyes and onto the floor, staining the paper and spreading the ink around. he stood up, and walked home, silently locking the house's door behind him.

he sped to the bathroom, and hopped onto the shower. george was gone, and there was almost no chance that they'd meet again. clay fell apart inside the bathroom, his feet firmly planted on the cold tiles, back pressed upon bleached walls. clay slid down, and sat on the floor, his knees close to his bare chest as it heaved erratically; the showerhead's sound drowned out the broken sobs falling from the blond's chapped lips, his right hand drifted over to his lips, remembering the way george's lips felt on his. the droplets masked his tears, and the gentle pitter-pattering kept clay grounded. even after he exited the shower and dried himself, he seemed disheveled.

clay felt ink mix itself with his blood as he vomited his guts out, he couldn't breathe; and as he pulled the wings of dead butterflies apart from the mixture of ink and blood, clay wanted to pin it to the walls - a symbol of his yearning. a taste with a mix of bitterness and metallic sludge left itself on clay's tongue.

this wasn't real. he was merely panicking. there were no butterflies or ink or any of that - clay was merely panicking.

what was real, however, was how his skin held a light, yellow tint. and how his abdomen hurts so bad. it hurts, his chest hurts, and his body hurts

he heard the ticking of the clock in his room, could taste this morning's breakfast, could smell his shampoo. clay was fine, he was real, he existed.

even so, clay's legs felt like they were broken, and they couldn't support his body weight. he felt as if he had no choice but to crawl pathetically on the ground, and when clay reached his bed, he hoisted himself up with difficulty.

the bed sheets were cold; and clay could feel every crease and fold in the pastel green fabric as he stared up at the mud coloured ceiling. the atmosphere was laced with a concoction of fog and sleep, like it had always been when he and george hung out in his bedroom, when clay laid his head on george's lap; except the atmosphere is now also mixed with newfound loneliness.

he wanted to jump off of a skyscraper just to feel something, but with his listless, limp form and state - it was impossible. no matter how hard he tried to put himself back together, clay's shattered pieces were desperate to be loved and cherished and treasured. was george even aware that clay was breaking? even so, clay hoped george was sleeping soundly, clay hoped that george was unaware of the fact that his departure broke clay possibly beyond repair.

clay took emptiness over irrationality, dreaming and mourning things that were slain. he picked loneliness over obviousness; wishing that he could change their fates. dreaming of upcoming things for they'll be damaged when they end. aggression over majority, dreams don't come true for the truth is in front of their eyes, they would've seen it if they'd just opened their eyes. clay was too late, he should've told george about the warmth within his chest whenever they were together but he just didn't figure it out sooner. clay should've told george how much he appreciated the latter more, now, he doesn't know if he has another chance to do so and it hurts clay's chest so, so bad.

the blond had fallen for the unattainable - an elusive dreamer at heart. he is being dragged down by ideas so stupid they'd be considered as fairytales, clay fell for the beautiful boy he grew up with. unreachable stars dancing in front of his eyes to the beats of songs and lyrics his fingers are itching to write.

write, that's it! he thought, and with the tiny bit of strength he had left - clay sat infront of his study table and brought out pieces of paper, as well as a pen. unexpectedly, his old, fourth grade mathematics textbook fell over, and with hesitance - clay opened it with careful fingers, seeing something george has left.

he had nothing left to do, but write.


	7. 6 - with honours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 02/15/21 - first draft  
> 03/09/21 - edited

6 - with honours

~

"gogs!"

the mentioned boy turned around only to be mushed by a hug, light laughter filled the university's quadrangle. "we did it george! we graduated!" george's friend, nick, exclaimed. and the brit smiled warmly at his enthusiastic friend, looking forward and seeing more of his college friends. one donned a round pair of golden glasses and a maroon beanie, and the other showed off his long, pink hair.

"we're finally out of school." wilbur sighed and flopped onto techno's shoulder, blowing the pink strands of hair that got itself in wilbur's face away. "i reckon we should stay in and celebrate!"

"yay, now we have to work our asses off to pay student debt." the pink haired fellow deadpanned, gently pushing wilbur from his shoulder - his brother protesting when he lost balance, "truly, living the best life."

"so, what now?" nick asked, looking at his friends. "what are we gonna do?"

"i don't know man, i don't even know what i'll eat for breakfast tomorrow." techno replied, and wilbur shrugged - muttering in agreement.

"we are gonna perform in pubs, if you guys want to tag along." wilbur perked up. sometimes, when they were free - they performed; with wilbur as the vocalist, techno as the drummer, nick as the bassist and george as the electric guitarist. 

"oh, pog! let's see if george and i have things to do." nick smiled at the curly haired brit, "how 'bout you, gogs?" nick turned to george, and the boy in question hummed, pondering.

"i think i'll return to my hometown, my grandparents did leave me my childhood home after mum passed." george responded, and nick gasped upon hearing the short boy's plan.

"you're leaving us?!" the youngest exclaimed, and the twins chuckled at their antics.

"no, you idiot." george mumbled, flicking nick on the forehead. "i'll return here, of course. plus, it's a good thing that i'm not gonna third wheel with you and karl."

"boys! i'm so proud of you." they looked over to see phil, one of their professors and techno and wilbur's dad. he took the four under his wing, and they've grown closer to phil as well as the twins' younger brothers; tommy and tubbo.

the five men fell into a comfortable conversation, eventually leaving the university and entering a seven-eleven, with tommy and tubbo tagging along - wasting polaroid films, taking picture after picture, yet they didn't mind, they were enjoying the moment. there, they stayed where they used to waste their days away after school hours.

george remembered when he and his friends cruised down the street, and whenever he fell silent - he couldn't help but think of all the memories he had in his hometown, when he tried to learn how to ride a bike - keyword, try - to laughing with his best friend while they ate fried rice, egg and beef.

his best friend, he did have one. george didn't know if the blond still remembers him, but george sure did remember clay. the boy who made him so happy all those years ago, the boy who he had his first kiss with. 

george remembered awarding ceremonies with clay, they always ended the academic years with honours - and now, in the present, george smiled wide with his new friends, yet it was stained with sadness. it was bittersweet, george always thought it was. he felt bad for not talking to clay about his mum's decision, george felt bad for not acknowledging the sinking feeling in his stomach, distracted by infatuation and the heavy medals hanging around his pale neck.

wilbur was quite the writer, but george found himself longing for clay's words instead. they'd often film clips and scenes for the university's film festival, and george remembered the wholesome laughter between them whenever they performed in front of people. the four would win film festival after film festival, taking home every reward there was. it was exhausting, yet it was magical.

george got himself a pack of maltesers and a can of white monster, opening the can and taking a sip - the familiar liquid trailing down his tongue, reminding him of the taste of clay's lips, reminding him of how magical it felt when they sat back down on the grass and laughed about the silly things clay made up.

he remembered when they danced underneath the moonlight, the slow beat of their hearts was the only thing they followed rhythmically. clay held george's hand, supporting his weight as the brit pirouetted and spun like fragile fairy floss. their bodies opened and yearned to create sapphires and a eunoia of their story together. they were tied together by strings of constellations, and george could vividly remember how ethereal clay looked with his fine, golden threads of hair.

it had the texture of straw which was spun into gold, dripping like melted caramel floss wrapped around croquembouche, the shade of molten hazelnut chocolate that flows elegantly around the frame of clay's face. his skin was sun kissed with each individual streak of warmth, with freckles like dusted cinnamon, glowing gently underneath the bright streetlight stars.

when the two were younger, they always built cardboard castles - where clay was the king and george was his other half. and when it got dark, the castle sat sluggishly above the loose patch of dirt, dark candlelit skies lighting up the space. george tried so desperately to forget the wet shoebox buried underneath the remains of yesterday, but he just can't.

clay would take george to patches of blooming poppies, smiling at the way george's enthusiasm captured the essence of youthful spring, muddy meadows and all the endless rays of sunshine.

george sometimes questions if clay remembers the moments they shared, if he remembers the nights they went stargazing because clay couldn't sleep because of his insomnia.

he missed clay so much, and he's going back to see him. to catch up. george doesn't want their story be unfinished, he didn't want clay to be his first love where nothing more happened.

george was coming home, he was going to clay. the person he felt most at home with.


	8. 7 - let me come home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 02/17/21 - first draft  
> 03/09/21 - edited

7 - let me come home

~

george was packing his bags, about to leave the tiny apartment he stayed in for three years after his mother passed. it has been a decade since he flew out of the country, and since then he has made some friends. george was sure to miss them. although, he wasn't sure if he will stay in america, however he did want to visit his childhood home.

and maybe, george just wanted to see if clay was there.

the brit flinched when he heard his apartment door open, noting that because of how many times the paint on the wall behind the doorknob was chipping away - his landlord will yell at him. george also knew by how the doorknob hit the wall, that it was a certain curly haired british boy who has opened the door.

"george!" wilbur loudly opened the door with the spare key george has given him, a wide grin on his face. george was now rethinking his life choices - why did he hand his friends spare keys to his apartment?

maybe not, maybe he won't miss them that much. he'll bask in the temporary silence his childhood home will provide.

"wil, what are you doing here?" george asked, turning around to face the curly haired boy. wilbur stood there with a smile, wearing a grandpa vest and towering over george.

"it's not just me mr. found." the taller male smirked, and that was when nick and techno entered the apartment, "surprise shawty! we're coming with you!" the youngest yelled.

"wait what-" george was cut off by nick draping over him, his figure weighing george down to his suitcase. techno, seeing the two leaning on the suitcase, used the opportunity to zip it close. george mumbling a small thank you. techno, signing a you're welcome.

"hush, so, we're going to pay for our own flight tickets all you have to provide is food and a home." nick beamed. "so much food."

"techno, you hog the four braincells we all collectively have - why'd you allow this?" george asked, turning to the pink haired boy who was just putting on his black, thick, rectangular glasses. "and nick, you're so heavy please get off of me." he groaned, rolling his eyes when the aforementioned boy didn't make an effort to move away, giggling at the oldest's frustration.

"i did." techno responded, "but, i was bored. and perhaps tagging along with you will be fun. god made me live another day to cause disturbances." he smiled dementedly, and george let out a sigh - of course the brains of the group was blinded by the opportunity to annoy him.

"yeah, totally. god made you live so you can disturb me, gotcha." george groaned, "fine. i'm leaving tomorrow morning." he said, hoping the trio would stop and hesitate with how early he's planning to leave.

"tomorrow? already?" wilbur asked, "you know what, i'll just text dad that there'll be a change of plans and we're leaving early."

"seriously? you're still going?" george said with an exasperated expression on his face. techno and wilbur nodded, synchronized.

"there's no talking us out of this, gogs." nick said, falling on the floor with a soft oof when george pushed him off his shoulder. "ow, why'd you push me?"

"because you wouldn't get off." he rebutted, before continuing, "okay, fine." george sighed, turning to his friends with a smile. "book your flights, we're leaving early."

-

when the four boys hopped off of the airplane, wilbur and nick decided that it was a great idea to wreak havoc. techno and george just may be baby-sitters at this point. the two boys dragged george and techno around, taking pictures left and right, catching the eyes of some people - keep in mind they were still at the airport.

"we're in america! george we're in america!" nick cheered with wilbur cheering along with him, yelling out a pog!

"yes, sap. we can see that we are indeed in america." george said, he turned to techno. "say, techno. what if we just leave them here and go to the house?"

"sure." techno replied, grabbing their luggages. the two perked up and turned to them, sprinting towards the short british boy and the tall, pink haired american who was donning a faux fur coat.

"george no please we don't know the address," wilbur rushed after the other brit, weighing him down by holding george by his shoulders and jumping. nick following and yelling a me next! me next! and george cutting him off with a glare.

"okay. then let's go." george smiled, hopping onto one of the taxis lined up in front of the airport.

placing their luggages inside the taxi's trunk, the four entered the car; with george on the front seat and the trio at the back. george showed the taxi driver his address, and there they went.

it was quiet, which was rare for a two hour car ride with techno, nick and wilbur. george turned his head over his shoulder to see that the three have fallen asleep, wilbur and nick leaning on techno's shoulders. george smiled, and sat properly, turning his phone on and scrolling through reddit.

"vacation?" the taxi driver asked, starting a small conversation whilst not taking his eyes off of the road.

"kind of, we're just visiting my childhood home." george responded, turning off his phone and placing it in his pocket.

"oh, how long have you stayed overseas?" he asked.

"ten years now. had to move because of my grandpa." george said, looking out the window and seeing all the familiar places he and clay used to hang out in. "i also went here for closure, i guess. more specifically to give someone closure and hopefully a little more."

"ah, young love i suppose." the driver smiled, "i hope things go well for you, young man."

the taxi stopped in front of george's childhood home, and the house looked the same - of course, there were marks of time. but it was the same place he grew up in.

"wake up, boys. we're here."


	9. 8 - treehouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 02/19/21 - first draft  
> 03/09/21 - edited

8 - treehouse

~

the three boys, with the exception of george, walked into the house sleepily, dragging their suitcases behind them. wilbur stared at the house and blinked, "bloody hell, george. your house is huge!"

"it is." george smiled, "but, i don't know, i just felt so small in here. it was just me, my mum and...yeah." he trailed off, he didn't want to tell them about clay, yet. george doesn't know why he's withholding the information, however he just didn't want the blond to be their topic of conversation even though his mind has been filled with longing and loneliness.

"george! holy shit you had a treehouse?!" they heard nick yell from outside, he walked out unnoticed to explore - and his exploration did get him somewhere.

"oh, yeah." george mumbled, walking out the house through the back door in the kitchen. seeing the treehouse for the first time in a decade, he was slapped in the face by memories of his childhood. before george climbed up the makeshift stairs which were just planks nailed to the tree trunk, he kneeled down on the grass and dug out a certain spot down the roots - pulling out a small, golden key, and then he climbed, opening the door gently, greeted by a cloud of dust. "nobody's been here in a long time, it seems." he murmured.

the 'do not enter' sign was still intact, hanging on the door. the treehouse was something his father built for him before he passed, and george valued it very much.

staring at the walls, fingers running across dusty, polaroid pictures and drawings stuck on the wall. a gentle smile settled itself on george's face. the brit looked around the interior of the treehouse, romanticizing and picking up dried leaves off of the floor. george was home, for good or for the last time? he doesn't know. he could hear the blind mice that has plagued the walls, george listened close - hearing the traces of the past, of when he and clay gobbled down gas station food. suddenly, he was transferred back to 16 years ago.

what was peculiar, was something he didn't remember being there. it was a brown box, coated in dust, with a baby blue sticker on top; 'for george'. the aforementioned boy took the box into his arms, and shoved it inside his oversized hoodie pocket.

-

george, 7 years old, sniffled and breathed heavily, his back pressed against the wooden wall of the treehouse. the other kids made fun of him for not having a dad, he didn't even bother the kids, he just played in the park because clay had a hospital appointment. george can handle being away from clay for hours at a time, but the company wasn't unwelcomed.

the door creaked open, and the blond entered - instantly spotting his friend and his tear streaked face, "george? what happened?" he asked, crawling over to george.

"oh, clay." george frantically wiped his tears away with his sweater paws, "you got home from the hospital early."

"yeah," clay smiled at his friend, concern etched on his face, "what happened, georgie? you don't have to tell me if you're too sad to."

"nothing, i'm fine, it's just the kids in the park." george inhaled, staring down at his hands. "they made fun of me when i sat on the swings, said i didn't have a dad to push me." it was a stupid thing to cry about, or, at least george thought it was.

"well, that's not nice!" clay grumbled, his eyebrows furrowing and his face contorting into a frown. "d'you want me to beat them up for you?" he joked, if george didn't know clay, he would've thought the taller boy was serious.

george shook his head quickly, "no, i just wish everyone would leave me alone and just let me be." the brit murmured, looking up and seeing clay look a little hurt, "except you, of course. you can stay here with me." 

"yes! i knew it! you love me." clay smiled widely, shaking george by the shoulders, "george, you love me right? tell me you love me!" he continued enthusiastically, making george scoff. it has always been an inside joke between them, that george didn't love him - but clay was so wrong about that.

"of course, dummy, i love you." george smiled back, "you're the only one nice to me, and i love you." and so, the two boys leaned against each other and talked about nothing and everything all at the same time.

\- 

when george went back into the house, nick and wilbur were dead asleep on the l-shaped couch and techno was nowhere to be found. his question of where his tallest friend was, was answered when he heard the front door open.

"i explored for a bit," techno explained himself after seeing george's questioning gaze, "i got us groceries."

"oh, thanks." george said genuinely, helping techno unpack the groceries and place them inside the fridge - which was surprisingly clean. they basked in the comfortable silence until techno asked him something.

"why'd you return here?" techno asked, and george stopped sorting the vegetables.

"i just wanted to clean this place up, it reminds me of my parents." george half-heartedly said.

"no, that isn't why." techno said gently, "george, it's easy to tell when you lie."

george finally continued sorting the groceries, but he couldn't help but remember clay's skin of pure white carnations, lighter than falling snowflakes, with twin orbs of delphinium ajacis and purple undertones. "i came here for someone, i guess."

"first love?" techno offered, and with george's silence - he got his answer. "don't worry, i won't tell the other two, but we'll be here for you, we can enjoy our time here while you go looking."

"thanks techno." george smiled, and they once again basked in the silence, cut short when nick woke up to look for food. wilbur looked at the contents of the fridge, and pulled some out, planning to cook them something. george and techno didn't comment on it - wilbur was a great cook and they trusted him. nick perked up and insisted to help, with wilbur agreeing enthusiastically. 

there, they all fell into conversation, and george momentarily forgot about the box within his pocket.


	10. 9 - friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 02/22/21 - first draft  
> 03/09/21 - edited

9 - friend

~

the four walked happily to the arcade down town, with the three taking tons of pictures and george just laughing at their silliness; stereotypical tourists. it seems like this small town george grew up in didn't change a lot, there were new establishments but the charm and the sparks george felt within his fingertips were still there.

george smiled at his friends, even techno - who usually had a poker face, was enjoying himself. they were making a silly vlog to send phil, making their dad smile was something they all collectively liked doing; granted, george and nick aren't phil's sons, but he did help them whenever they had mental breakdowns over their finals.

"arcade, pog!" wilbur yelled, dragging nick and techno inside the old place - nick was holding onto george, and in turn, wilbur indirectly dragged him along. "so, how does this work?" wilbur turned to george, looking down at the shorter boy, his curls bouncing whenever he moved his head.

"wait, i think i still have my old card." george mumbled, fishing through his wallet, which contained a faded polaroid picture of he and clay, with the blond carrying the brit in a piggyback ride; within clay's eyes were stardust, and his hair contained moonshine and pastel pink butterflies - the blond truly looked beautiful. "yeah, found it!" the short brit smiled, pulling out the old, plastic blue card with his name etched on the back and the arcade's name printed on the top, "you pay the dude in the counter and whichever amount you pay him will be loaded into the card as points - so, let's say the karaoke booth asks for 6 points, then if you use that booth then you'll be subtracted 6 points." george explained gently, handing the card to techno - who is arguably the most responsible out of all of them.

"oh, poggers!" nick cheered, pulling a 20 from his wallet, "here's my contribution." and after he handed techno the money, george and wilbur followed suit, with techno going last.

the four went up to the counter, where a guy in his thirties stood. he looked over at the men in front of him, and a flash of recognition passed through his eyes when he saw george. "george, you're home." he breathed, sam did witness george and clay grow up together, them singing in the karaoke booth and them playing ddr. clay even won george a medium sized pastel green teddy with a white belly and a blue ribbon tied around its neck, and they affectionately named it blob - george brings blob everywhere, he's always in the brit's backpack.

"sam! you still own this place?" george said, smiling widely at sam. the older man let out a hearty laugh, he did miss seeing the two - they were a sight to see, no fights or unreasonable arguments, just pure adoration circled around the two.

"of course, i built this myself." sam responded, "where's clay?" he asked, looking at the brit's friends and seeing the blond nowhere to be found.

george went silent at the question, colour draining from his face, nevertheless, he breathed, forcing a small smile back on his face. "i haven't seen him for a decade now."

sam nodded in understanding, taking the four boys' money and loading it into the card. when he was done, sam handed it to george with a thank you and a silent apology. george, techno, wilbur and nick rushed over to the karaoke room, closing the door behind them - wilbur's smile reached his smile when he saw the karaoke machine, the mic and the soundproofed walls.

"techno, grab the songbook and look for hayloft." wilbur turned to his pink haired twin, with the taller raising an eyebrow at the dark haired boy's weird ways - wilbur always sang hayloft whenever there was a karaoke machine around, "we're 'boutta wreck this place with awesomeness." he muttered, wrapping slender fingers around the mic and switching it on.

"george, nick - play the phantom guitars." he commanded, "we're performing a concert, baby!"

\--

"george, oh my gosh! there's a little sheep here in your backyard!" wilbur yelled, crouching down to meet the little sheep, "hello, do you have a home?" the creature stared at wilbur with big, dark eyes, and nudged his hand with its head, "george i'll keep him!" wilbur yelled out, before turning to the sheep, "your name, is friend." 

"what-" george looked out to the backyard through the kitchen's window, and wilbur was indeed with a sheep. "how will you bring it back home, wil, you're being impulsive."

they just got home, and they thought they were going to settle for a while after a hectic day of headbanging and playing air guitars, but no - wilbur just had to find a little sheep in george's backyard. but, it seems so normal that george wasn't even that shocked at the sight.

"no, i'll find a way." wilbur said, determined. smiling when the sheep sat beside his feet, "i won't leave friend here."

"oh god, george. don't tell me wilbur already named it." techno groaned, "what's worse is dad will be on board with keeping the sheep." he sighed, phil was rational, but at the same time, he was the kind of dude to support his sons' weird decisions.

"hey, this vacay just got more fun." nick grinned, "we're sharing george's house with a sheep." the youngest ran out through the backdoor to meet wilbur, both of them gushing over the small creature. "sally will find him adorable." wilbur cheered, talking about his red-headed girlfriend who doesn't like eating fish.

"we have to buy it food." techno mumbled, and george nodded in agreement. "wanna go out?" 

"yeah, sure." george smiled, "i also wanna stop by somewhere." the brit mumbled, looking down the street through the window, seeing the blond's house. he hopes, he wishes, he prays to god that clay was still there, that clay has waited for him.

he'll come home, he'll come back to clay; clay was his home.


	11. 10 - letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 02/23/21 - first draft  
> 03/09/21 - edited

10 - letters

~

george and techno got home, hay and other supplies for friend the sheep hung over their shoulders. the short brit stopped by the 7-11 nearby, picking up a white monster and packs of watermelon flavoured gum. "techno, can you tend to them for a while? i know i'm not being the best host right now, but..." george trailed off, looking down at his hands. techno smiled gently, helping george set the supplies down.

"yeah, sure. you need a break, they could be a little too much." techno replied - he adored his sibling and his friends, but their loud natures can be tiring at times, techno totally understands. turning to look out the backyard. "wilbur! we got the stuff for your sheep!"

"thanks! i'll pay you back later!" wilbur yelled out, smiling widely at friend. "friend, they got you food and all the other things you could possibly need." he cooed gently at the sheep and pet its head gently. "now, i'll just have to tell dad about your existence."

at the span of time that techno and george got food for friend, nick has left wilbur and crashed on the couch - sleeping face down on the cushion, the couch reverberating nick's loud snores. but they couldn't blame the youngest as to how tired he was - they did just exert all of their energy towards fooling around the town for a bit.

"if you need anything, i'll be at my room upstairs." george told techno, wiping his sweaty hands on his shirt, "it's the cream-coloured door down the hall. you guys can pick your rooms and settle, there's three spare." the pink haired man nodded and smiled, patting george's shoulder in an attempt to reassure him that everything will be fine.

george walked up the familiar stairs, his legs feeling quite heavy and his feet planting itself on the steps - feeling almost magnetic and monotonous. there was something about this house that just attracted him to it, george felt like a flimsy piece of metal trapped on a circular plate of neodymium magnet. once he finally entered his childhood bedroom, everything was still the same; too many plastic plants, too many books, pillows andblankets. too many paper flowers, old vinyl records, pill bottles and scentedcandles, except for the old creases that looked new to george left on the bed - george swore he smoothed his bed sheets out before he left. had clay been here? no, that's stupid. he doesn't care about george that much.

the brit dragged his suitcase into his room, unpacking his clothes before reading what clay has written for him, in reality, george was just procrastinating - he yearned for clay's words and poetry, yet, it is already here, and george is terrified to read it. was clay mad at him? he doesn't know, not until he gets on with it and reads the letters. george pulled his sluggish body along and forced himself to stop procrastinating.

his fingertips ran across the dust covered box, finally mustering up the courage - george gently hooked his fingers underneath the box's top, pulling it up. george sat back and gaped at the overflowing light, spark, love and ink that exited out of the layered pieces of paper, glue and cardboard. george's shaking hands reach out to touch the box, tears welling up in his eyes, but they never fell; this was clay, in the form he wanted to be remembered as - art. the blond so desperately wanted to paint himself as his very own magnum opus, and even though he himself couldn't see it, george thinks clay already did it even before he wanted to. clay wanted to outdo himself in every piece he has written and in every painting he has made - but that always inevitably burnt the teen out.

clay loved writing, effortlessly allowing words to flow from his pen, lips curling around beautiful and vivid imagery, prose and poetry. his passion towards writing is so strong that even george felt it through the scrap pieces of parchment paper. with feather light gentleness, the brit pulled the box close to his chest, and with a deep inhale, george fished through the box and pulled out a bright, lilac tinted paper, undoing the folds to marvel at clay's neat, curly handwriting - one of the things george adored about clay was his handwriting, and the way his fingers wrapped itself around the pen. the ink has long dried out, but george can notice the smudged part where clay either dripped tears or water onto.

-

george,

i don't understand why you left, my parents won't tell me as well, but i'm not angry - more sad, i guess. i miss you, george. i miss you so much. 

you don't know this, because i chose not to tell you, but you are my muse - i can only find myself writing about your eyes and your smile, the way i can vaguely hear your heartbeat when we danced together before you left.

i miss it, our feet buried within the ground and into the earth's crust, dancing out and silently yelling out our reasoning and adoration for each other. we danced, to insist and show everyone that we belonged together, our outstretched limbs molding into one and our fingers entangled together - imitating constellations and depictions of star-crossed lovers, stories and fairytales that go beyond books.

the distance has made my heart grow fonder and softer for you, thinking about you every time something happens. still, it's painful how my heart aches and clenches at the thought of you and your presence. i'm so lonely, george. everytime i apply peach flavored chapstick, i can feel your lips against mine, i can feel your fingers running through my hair and i can feel your warmth.

what are you thinking about, right now? i yearn to see the sunlight fall on your skin, accentuating your beauty and etherealism - flaws and all. 

but despite all of this, it comforts me; the fact and knowledge that we're both staring at the same sky. i just know that i'll meet you again.

all yours,  
clay


	12. 11 - cara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 02/25/21 - first draft  
> 03/09/21 - edited

11 - cara

~

"so, what are we up to today?" george asked the trio, right hand settled on his hip while he leaned on the refrigerator, the three groaned in response. it was their second day in america, and they were tired, with george as an exception. "staying in?"

"yeah, i feel like i've been hit by a truck." nick whined, pressing his face on the table even further. "i don't want to walk right now, gogy."

"i'm also just in the mood for fast food right now, i might order." wilbur mumbled, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "yeah, i'm deffo going to order. what do you guys want?" the tall brit asked, they told him their orders and he wordlessly inputted the food and drink combinations.

"actually, i'll be right back. i'll just go on a walk." george said, and they looked at him - each giving some form of agreement.

"stay safe." techno smiled, standing up to get himself a glass of water, turning his head down a bit because of how close it is to the ceiling.

"return home soon, my love, my gogy!" nick exaggerated, giving george a toothy grin while petting friend, who stood beside nick's chair.

"oh, love, huh?" george turned, eyebrow raised when he looked at the youngest, "did you forget about karl?" he joked, with nick smiling at the mention of his lover - pulling his phone out to text him something useless yet sweet.

"nick? forget about karl? in what world, george?" wilbur smirked, leaning back into the chair - pushing himself forward when he was about to fall - treating the slender, golden chair with brown accents like a rocking chair, to which george didn't mind. "sure, when pigs fly, nick will forget about karl." he laughed, "by the way, stay safe, george."

"thanks." george smiled at the three, "i won't be long." he reassured, walking out of the front door and started to wander aimlessly around the street, stopping by an ice cream parlor. george entered the establishment, pastel pink walls greeting him.

"hi! how may i help you?" a gentle voice asked politely, george looked up to see a girl with fluffy, white hair, pale skin and light blue eyes. the nametag pinned on the right side of her shirt had her name written in cursive; cara.

"hi, uh, may i get a strawberry flavoured ice cream? five scoops please." george smiled.

cara?

george narrowed his eyes, looking at the nametag properly. it was. cara. his mind drifted off to one of clay's letters, it wasn't possible, was it?

'today, my parents adopted an older sister for me! she has albinism, which was totally cool - she looked like a fairy character. she is very pretty and takes care of me when mom and dad aren't around; her name's cara, but i call her puffy because of her puffy hair and she reminds me of a sheep, and in return, she calls me her duckling! because i always follow her around and all that. i tell stories of us to her, and she hopes to meet you someday.'

the brit snapped out of his thoughts when cara told him how much he had to pay, pulling out his wallet and paying her - cara's blue eyes drifted down to the polaroid picture tucked in the plastic pocket of george's wallet. he couldn't be, could he?

"here you go." george handed the money to cara politely, with her smiling in return.

"i hope this isn't invasive, and you don't have to answer, but - are you george, by any chance?" cara asked, taking the dollar and proceeding to scoop the strawberry ice cream from its pastel pink bucket, the strawberry prints chipping away from the plastic. "do you know a clay?"

"yeah, why?" george replied, tilting his head to the side in confusion. 

"i'm cara, i was his adopted older sister." she explained, "and, clay has told me an awful lot about you." cara smiled at the smaller boy before her.

"where's clay? how is he?" george asked frantically, cara chuckled - handing the strawberry ice cream over to the former, something flashed in her eyes - but it was too quick and george didn't catch it.

when cara was asked the question, she wanted to lay on her bed and be stuck in a fetal position - forever wishing that she can fold into herself, and that the ground would eat her alive, disappearing without a trace, but that won't do. cara doesn't know - she wasn't sure, but deep down, she knew that disappearing wasn't the answer or the solution to her predicament. at the moment, she felt like her body wasn't her own and that she was floating in outer space. the temporary solution to her little conflict right now, however, was to indirectly give the brit before her an answer. "i have too much to explain, can we talk tomorrow? in the old house?"

"how is clay?" george asked, persistent and determined to know an answer as to how his friend was.

"it's too complicated, please, we can talk, but not here." cara muttered, pleading, her light blue eyes stared into george's honey brown with the same fire and persistence.

"fine." george gave up, taking a spoonful of ice cream from his cup. "i'll come over in the afternoon, if that's alright with you?" he asked.

"sure, i'd love to know more about you." cara smiled, "i'm sorry, i just...there's so much for me to explain. i just wanted us to talk about my little duckling in a place more private. you wouldn't want me to drop some details, do you?"

"of course not." george agreed, sighing before dropping his tense shoulders. "i apologize, too. i haven't seen clay in a long time, there's so many things i want to apologize about and i don't want to lose him again, cara."

"i understand." cara reassured, george checked the time on his phone before muttering a small goodbye - the white haired woman smiled gently and waved as she watched george's retreating figure. letting out a sigh, she banged her head on the table, "what am i gonna do, clay?" 


	13. 12 - limbo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 02/25/21 - first draft   
> 03/09/21 - edited

12 - limbo

~

george stood in front of the lake, back turned to the world around him. he breathed and a sigh escaped his slightly parted lips. everything was calm, serene. george's head turned to look at his side, a large hand settled itself on his shoulder.

"george" a voice asked, honey smooth and nostalgic, it had grown deeper but george knew that voice from anywhere. the brit turned around and met green eyes, those familiar green eyes with brown and gold sprinkled within the pools.

"clay." george breathed, a happy cry escaping his throat.

his hair was ruffled in the wind, and his strawberry scent is now mixed with apple scented lotion - the scents lingering in the air as they swirled together in perfect harmony. the clothes he wore was full of colours and paint - he did love writing and art, and george was glad clay pursued his passion. his hair still looked like fine corn silk, and clay's aura reminded him of when they'd sneak out at night. his clay was here with him.

clay gives george a toothy grin and pulls the latter into a tight hug, feeling how warm his skin was, and smelling the same strawberry scented shampoo from all those years ago, hearing his heartbeat felt like second nature to george. the brit knew that once again, he was home.

the blond still was taller and stronger than george, and because of his excitement, he lifted the smaller brit off of the ground and twirled him around, their laughter was soft and beautiful – a sound george was happy to hear again after years of not seeing clay. george's cheeks, the tip of his nose and the tip of his ears were tinted pink, and his lips were in between the state of dry and moist because of the cold weather.

"you still have that same jacket from seventh grade?" george laughed softly, placing a strand of hair behind clay's ear as he stared up at the blond before him. and george can feel clay's eyes into his, as well as ghosted lips and feathery touches.

"yeah, I mean, you gave it to me. i'd never throw it away." clay replied warmly, pulling george closer to him, and george was pliant against clay's big hands.

once again, they ate gas station sushi, fried rice and beef, and drank carbonated milk. it was bittersweet, but as they basked in each other's presence, george knew that he'd meet clay again someday, for he is george's north Star and he'll always find his way back to taller boy.

'he is indeed the other half of my soul, as the poets say.' george thought.

george remembered when he boarded the plane, ready to start a new journey without the blond - his heart ached, and george thought of clay's lips, plump and tainted with the color of raw blueberries, tainted with the filling of his mother's pie with a shadow of a playful smirk on his lips as if they were playing a game. george can't help but taste the strawberry milk flavored lip balm coating clay's lips.

the patroclus to his achilles, he really is the other half of george's soul. love isn't perfect, it isn't anything like the ones they portray in the movies; it's happiness, but at the same time – it's pain, it's painful because when you love someone so much, sometimes there's uncertainty and doubt – running over all the possibilities and potential situations as to why they'll leave you.

love, when with the right person, is the best problem to have. there will always be doubts and questions that'll plague george's mind but, clay always proved him wrong, and with time and communication – maybe clay will trust him again, one day. but one thing's for sure; they never stopped loving each other, even when they weren't talking.

george hoped to see him again, even if they meet again here in pseudo-america, that'll do.

-

george sat up, cold sweat clinging onto his skin. he looked around, looking down at his trembling hands, the same hands instantly clutching his chest as sobs escaped past his lips, eyes leaking tears and falling down to his fingertips. he woke up. it was all a dream. 

he remembered, he did. he talked to cara, clay's older sister told him all about what happened.

-

'he left you those letters, didn't he?' cara asked, sipping coffee from the small cup in her hands. george sat on the couch opposite where cara sat, he nodded wordlessly.

'the letters, all they tell me is what happened when i disappeared, that he felt the same way about me.' george said, 'now, where is he?'

'george-' cara tried to respond, but george rudely cut her off.

'i know i fucked up, but i'm here to make up for it.' george raised his voice, slamming his hands on the table as he stood up. 'so please, stop hiding clay from me because i would never hurt him again!-'

'my brother is dead!' cara raised her voice back, her fingers wrapped tightly around her coffee cup, her knuckles turning white because of how tight it was. 'not everything is about you and your departure, my duckling is dead.' her voice cracked and she looked down as tears cascaded down her face.

'what?' george muttered, 'how? he didn't tell me anything-'

'clay had secrets too,' cara mumbled, setting her cup down on the table in front of her, 'when you were hiding you and your mother's departure, clay was hiding his pancreatic cancer.'

george was silent, his breathing was short and his hands were sweaty. 'our dad had it, but we noticed when his skin started to turn yellow, he was lethargic, we thought it was because you left - but, turns out he was very sick.' cara explained gently, standing up and pulling out clay's old mathematics textbook from the shelf behind her, opening it to the middle page - pulling out a flower encased in plastic - the lavender from all those years ago. 'he wanted you to have this, he was sad he didn't get to give you the lavender before you left.'

the brit took the laminated lavender with a shaking hand, letting out a sob and putting the flower close to his chest. clay's beauty was forever preserved within those letters and within the plastic casing the flower resided in.

'he didn't write letters to anyone else, clay was so blind and naïve, and he was talented - he never knew whatwould come after that – what would become of him when he desperately placed his work out there. clay didn't expect theskyscrapers of expectations and destructive insults.' cara mumbled, 'he didn't write to anyone else, not because of laziness, maybe his listlessness was a factor to his newfound distaste, maybe it was also because he ran out of inspiration when you left. clay only wrote letters to you because it wasn't his skill as an artist - it was him, purely him, every part of his heart he has been so afraid to release. and clay only wanted you to see him in his most vulnerable state.'

they were stuck in limbo, more than friends but less than conventional lovers, their love is something that didn't bloom. his clay was gone. george was too late.

george had a lot of things to tell clay, he wanted to praise him for his art once more, but he guessed he lost even that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! corn here, i was supposed to end it here, but - i feel like it is rather incomplete, so i will add a tiny epilogue after this one. thanks for bearing with me. stay safe, ily!


	14. 13 - epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 02/26/21 - first draft  
> 03/09/21 - edited
> 
> hey! we're finally at the end :) thanks for sticking around my dudes! ily! 
> 
> -corn

13 - epilogue

~

"hey, do you remember when we broke my mum's favourite vase?" george asked no one in particular, leaning against the stone - tracing his fingertips against the carvings etched onto the grey, polished stone embedded on the ground, george couldn't ignore the lump in his throat while reading the name and the dates etched onto his best friend's grave, "she was so mad, but she didn't show it. and when she calmed down - she bought us cakes from the baker next door."

george sighed, looking up at the clear, blue sky, birds flying over him and chirping happily, much like when george waited for clay to come over. "sucks, isn't it? i felt guilty because i was hiding something. turns out you were hiding something as well." he muttered, back slumped against nothing, "for what it's worth - i do feel the same. i mean, i love you." george trembled, shakily putting a piece of malteser on his tongue, the chocolate tasting almost bittersweet - reminding him of his first kiss. oh, how george missed clay.

"i was a little lonely when high school started." george stared off into the distance, "i just moved back to england, and i didn't have anyone to match my wavelength." he breathed, staring down at his hands. "but i met new people, and they were nice in their own ways - but they weren't you. i always looked for you, and i always hoped to see you again. i was determined to visit you after i graduate, and i did. i didn't expect to see you like this."

the brit noticed how his left hand was a little red from the cold, gripping the can of white monster he had bought earlier, "sometimes, when i stare at karl and nick, i feel something. not because i like either of them romantically, but i do wonder - what'll it be like if we ended up together."

"like, i knew a lot about you already, but it would be different - magical, almost, if we had a label." george laughed lightly, "i wanted to be domestic with you in a way where we were more than friends, i wanted you to give me morning kisses - then i'll pretend not to like it because of your coffee breath but in reality, i don't mind."

"i want to steal your sweaters, well, i did back then - remember when you pushed me on a pond? and i didn't have extra clothes on me? you gave me this huge, rust coloured sweater, and i still have it - it still fits me, it's still so big." the brit smiled, "i wanted to be here with you, but i was deprived of that. then again, i wouldn't want to see you so sick and frail." george allowed the tears to stream down his face, "i wouldn't want to see you when you look so dead, but...i wish i was here, you know? i wish i never left you without giving you some sort of closure."

george hugged his knees close to his chest, furiously wiping tears from his eyes. "i love you, clay, i really do. and holy shit, i regret a lot of things, and not being here for you when you needed me the most really fucking hurts." he whispered, wiping the tears from his cheeks with the sleeves of his sweater, "i'm so sorry for being selfish, i'm sorry for only thinking about myself and i'm so sorry for leaving. i'm so sorry for not doing anything when the bullies teased you instead of me, and i'm sorry for not telling you enough that i love you." george sobbed, but the brit opened his phone, looking at the time. "i'm sorry, clay. i have to go. i love you, and only you, alright?" george mumbled, giving the grave a watery smile as he left a can of white monster on top of clay's gravestone. 

the brit walked slowly to the rented car waiting for him, and when he sat down on the front seat, his pink haired friend looked at him, "hey, gogs. are you ready to go back to good 'ol england?"

"yeah, sure." george smiled, before turning to the three, plus the sheep. "hey, i don't tell you guys this enough but...i love you guys, and, thank you for being here for me."

"aw! of course, gogy!" nick grinned, and wilbur mumbled a 'stop it or i will absolutely cry,', making george giggle.

"okay, are we good to go?" techno asked, getting a chorus of cheers, "alright then, home we go."

george smiled, staring at the back of his phone where he placed a clear phone case. his fingers traced the outline of the laminated lavender neatly tucked on the back of his phone. the life was long gone, but its beauty remained. sometimes, george swore he can still smell the earthy aroma from the flower, and whenever he held the lavender - he felt clay's hand within his own.

"yeah, let's go home."


End file.
